


Soulmates are Magic

by RenLuthor



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29221041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenLuthor/pseuds/RenLuthor
Summary: “Mom,” she says when she sits down at the table, her arm sore even as she lifts her spoonful of breakfast cereal to her mouth.  “Everything hurts.  Is this magic, too?”Her mother turns to look at her.  She knows that Iris spent the day inside the day before, that she sat in her father’s office and read with him.  She knows Iris didn’t do anything.  She knows that the pain is unusual, and that Iris’s never mentioned anything like it before.  Iris expects her to be worried, or to ask questions, but once again, her mother surprises her.“No, Iris,” she says, “Your soulmate is in pain.”
Relationships: Caitlin Snow/Iris West, Lisa Snart/Caitlin Snow, Lisa Snart/Caitlin Snow/Iris West, Lisa Snart/Iris West
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	Soulmates are Magic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dryadfiona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dryadfiona/gifts).



Iris knows instinctively from a young age that the world is full of magic. She can feel it in the rush of wind before a strong spring storm, in the eerie, dry stillness just before the first snow falls. She doesn’t always have the words for it, to describe the way it itches under her skin, teased out in waves by the world around her. Things happen around her, sometimes, things she doesn’t realize she caused until she feels the exhaustion settle in. 

She doesn’t get to learn the spells and fancy wand work that wizards use until she gets older, her dad tells her. He tells her about the laws that prevent it, and the risks, the silly and the dangerous stories about wizards who almost risked the exposure of wizard kind with their magic. But he wouldn’t be her father if he didn’t hold his finger up to his lips, winking at her as he says magic words that make water spout from the edge of his wand, or make the messy stacks of paper cluttering his desk tidy themselves up. Iris tucks some of the words into her head, trying them in the privacy of her bedroom, under the covers late at night. The only spell she can get to work is lumos, but she hugs the light close to her chest, the end of her wand surprisingly cool to the touch.

Her mother teaches her something much more intuitive. Iris’s mother emphasizes the importance of control, trying to teach Iris to notice what a release of magic feels like before she teaches her how to use it. Iris loves most of all when she gets to see her mother doing magic. Her mother whispers words into Iris’s ears, Iris’s spine tingling with the feeling of magic even though she doesn’t always understand, the cadence of her mother’s soothing. Her mother takes her for walks and asks Iris what she feels, smiles as Iris tries to put the sensations into words. 

Iris can’t explain why her magic feels the most present during lightning storms, but her mother just smiles knowingly, proudly calling Iris her daughter, a West at heart.

Sometimes, though, sensations are just sensations. Iris’s six years old when she first wakes up to the feel of aching in her limbs, her arms tired and muscles sore. It feels like when Iris wakes up the morning after spending the whole day swimming in the creek with her friends, or that disaster of a time when Iris tried playing softball for the first time. 

“Mom,” she says when she sits down at the table, her arm sore even as she lifts her spoonful of breakfast cereal to her mouth. “Everything hurts. Is this magic, too?”

Her mother turns to look at her. She knows that Iris spent the day inside the day before, that she sat in her father’s office and read with him. She knows Iris didn’t do anything. She knows that the pain is unusual, and that Iris’s never mentioned anything like it before. Iris expects her to be worried, or to ask questions, but once again, her mother surprises her.

“No, Iris,” she says, “Your soulmate is in pain.”

Soulmates.

Plural. Her dad tells her that it isn’t unheard of. He has stories to accompany the revelation that soulmates are real, his own story about him and Iris’s mom, of course. But he also has stories about people who have more than one soulmate, or sometimes even more than two. It’s more commonly accepted now than it used to be, he tells her.

Iris is sure it has to be more than one person for her, because there is no way that one single person has as many aches and pains and scrapes as Iris feels. The aching of sore muscles and physical exertion comes and goes. Iris gets used to it. She thinks maybe that soulmate must be an athlete of some sort, doing something that involves a lot of working with their arms. Iris doesn’t get any of the strength that comes with the soreness, unfortunately, but her mother tells her she doesn’t get all of the pain, either. Iris only gets it at a fraction of what her soulmate feels, which gives Iris a lot more sympathy for them.

But then, there’s the tightness in Iris’s lungs that catches her by surprise sometimes, that makes her pause for a moment as she catches her breath. There are the scrapes and the bruises that Iris can’t see on her skin but that she can feel, sometimes, not really noticeable except for when her soulmate is getting them, or if she accidentally bumps into something in the right place. One time, there’s even a sickening feeling in her stomach, like she’s falling from somewhere high, a tree or a fence, and a sharp pain in her arm. It doesn’t stick around for her, but she wonders if maybe something is broken for her soulmate.

The physical sensations are odd, and occasionally unnerving. She never knows when to expect them, and she doesn’t know what causes them, though she makes up stories in her head. The physical sensations don’t actually come all that frequently, so she wonders a lot about what qualifies make a sensation important enough to pass on to her. 

Through trial and error she starts to realize that it’s only the strong physical sensations that she gets; the most painful or happiest feelings, or the ones that catch her soulmates by surprise the most. It makes her more careful, because she thinks that if they’re dealing with worse, then they don’t need anything more coming from her. Sometimes, when her muscles are the achiest from them, she goes and takes a nice, long bath, hoping some of the relaxation will bleed over to them, too.

What Iris finds even more odd, though, is the emotional bounce back she gets.

She thinks it’s like the physical stuff, and that she only gets the strongest feelings leaking through the bond. She gets emotions from her soulmates very infrequently. She’ll feel an occasional brief flash of joy or intense frustration, a moment of belonging. The feelings fill her up, even though they aren’t her own. They’re always gone as quickly as they came, but she holds onto them as much as she can, holds onto the feeling of being connected to her soulmates.

It confirms to her even more that there is probably more than one soulmate. There’s one period of intense sadness and loneliness and confusion when Iris is in early grade school that Iris can’t explain, and that definitely isn’t coming from her own experiences. But through it all she also feels a gentle sort of concern joining her own, tentative but soothing, an acknowledgement that Iris’s soulmate may be lonely, but they aren’t alone.

It makes Iris worry, and she still can’t quite shake the eeriness of feeling someone else’s feelings, but it also gives her hope. Though the reassurance isn’t aimed her way, and though she doesn’t feel abandoned the way her soulmate must, she can’t deny the fact that it beats in her heart, steady and strong.

She isn’t alone, and someday, hopefully sooner rather than later, she’ll get to meet her soulmates face to face.

Iris likes school well enough.

Her parents send her to a magical grade school, though she mostly takes normal muggle classes like math and science and English. They aren’t really supposed to learn real magic until they turn 11, but it’s nice being around other magical kids, and not feeling like she has to hide. She isn’t the smartest kid in her class, and reading class is hard for her, but all her time spent working with her parents means she has a lot fewer magical accidents than a lot of her classmates. She makes friends easily. She feels like she talks too much sometimes, but she’s not bad at kickball and has a cute lunchbox, so she’s fifth grade cool. 

She starts her magical middle school in sixth grade, instead of seventh, because that’s the first year her whole class is 11 years old and can legally do intentional magic. She only gets one year of that middle school, though, before her parents decide they’re moving to Star City so Iris’s dad can teach at SCU. Iris is nervous. It’s a new school with new people and new subjects in a new city, which feels like a lot of new. Too much new, really.

Iris doesn’t realize just how much it is making her worry, just how nervous she is, until she gets that familiar gentling concern from her soulmate bond. This time, it’s directed at her, and it’s even stronger than before, like it’s coming from more than one direction. She sends her best attempt at gratitude back, but she doesn’t know how well it comes across. 

The first day of middle school in Star City brings lots of new faces. Iris remembers a few names, though she thinks maybe she blends in just a little bit too well. The new school isn’t huge, but it’s bigger than what she’s used to, and she knows it might take a little bit to find her place. Iris does get a little help, though. 

The girl has brown eyes and dark blonde hair, and she waves to her friends across the classroom as she fills the seat next to Iris in charms class. “You mind if I sit here?” she asks, and Iris swears her heart skips a beat. 

The shocked “you want to sit next to me?” that Iris blurts out is better than Iris’s tongue being stuck to the roof of her mouth, but probably not much. 

“I’ve been new enough times to know how much it sucks,” Caitlin says, smiling. She has dimples, and her eyes are bright. “I’m Caitlin.”

“I’m Iris,” she says. “I don’t… I don’t have a big neon ‘new kid’ sign on my forehead, do I? I don’t want to embarrass myself that much.”

“Not at all,” Caitlin reassures her. “Word just gets around fast here. One of my friends is in your homeroom. What lunch period do you have? If we’re sharing, I can introduce you two.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Iris says, her cheeks heating even as she reaches into her bag. “I don’t want you to have to go out of your way.”

When Iris pulls her schedule out, Caitlin peeks over her shoulder, and Iris decides to just hold it out for her to compare. Caitlin looks at it for a second, running her fingers along the columns and humming before handing it back.

“We have lunches together on P.E. days, so not today. But we have social studies or history of magic together last period every day. I can save you a seat, you’re coming from the greenhouse.”

“Thank you,” Iris says gratefully. 

Caitlin beams at Iris, and Iris has that same feeling as before, that feeling of something warm blooming in her chest. It only gets worse when Caitlin reaches out to hand Iris her schedule back, and their fingers brush. Iris’s skin tingles, and she lets herself enjoy the feeling for just the briefest moment. 

She thinks she might come crashing back down to earth once she gets to know Caitlin better, and Caitlin isn’t just the gorgeous stranger who decided to take pity on the new girl. For now, though, Iris thinks she recognizes the feelings for what they are, the earliest bubblings of a crush.

Caitlin does save her that seat in social studies, and the heart fluttering doesn’t get any less prominent.


End file.
